Chapter seven
It was Friday morning. Pippa couldn’t believe how quickly her first week back home had passed by.
That morning, Pippa’s aunt had driven her father to a memory clinic after her aunt had made her aware earlier in the week a place had unexpectedly become available. With just Oliver and Pippa to cater for the lunch time needs of a very busy pub, it had been another exhausting day. Pippa barely had time to acknowledge Oliver when he’d come into the kitchen to pass on the food orders, let alone interact with him as they had every previous lunch time that week.
Once Pippa had cleaned the kitchen down and checked she had everything she needed for the evening meals, she couldn’t wait to get back upstairs for a rest before it started all over again. She was looking forward to grabbing forty winks curled up on the sofa with Ginger, just as they often did in her apartment back in Ireland.
She left the kitchen and walked past the bar with her hand held up in a stationary wave, as Oliver was emptying the glass washer.
‘See you later, Oliver. I’m going to have a cup of tea and a nap before we commence with round two.’
Oliver quickly placed the glasses he was holding onto the shelf and held up his hands in a stop gesture. ‘Pippa, wait! Have you forgotten you said we’d update the pub’s website today and plan some marketing strategies together to surprise your dad and aunt before they got back from their buying trip?’ Her aunt had mentioned a visit in front of Oliver in the week, but Pippa had elaborated later on, telling him they’d actually gone to a tradesperson’s kitchen equipment event. She hated lying, but if her dad didn’t want his own daughter to know about his dementia, he certainly wouldn’t want anyone else knowing about it either. ‘And didn’t you say you were going to do an ad for more staff, too?’
Pippa slapped her hand to her forehead. ‘Oh my goodness. Of course I did, that’s right. We have to do it now in case we don’t get a chance tomorrow.’ She nodded her head. ‘Okay, come upstairs when you’ve finished with your final jobs. I’ll put the kettle on.’
***
Ginger was wagginghis tail furiously when Pippa walked into the lounge. ‘Hello my beautiful boy. Did you miss me?’
After fussing over him, she filled the kettle and switched it on, then she put Ginger’s lead on him and took him outside to do his doggy toileting duties. When she made her way back upstairs to the living quarters above the pub, she found Oliver in the kitchen pouring the tea.
He looked back over his shoulder at her. ‘Sugar?’
‘Yes, Honey?’
Oliver’s brow rose at her word of endearment.
Pippa crinkled her nose up and laughed at her own joke. She shook her head. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’m just getting you back for the jokey banter about eating ginger cake and biscuits. No...no sugar, thank you.’
Oliver’s grin stretched from ear to ear. ‘Are you trying to imply you’re sweet enough?’ He winked, joining in with the banter.
Pippa flicked her tongue around the perimeter of her lips, as if tasting herself. ‘Erm, I think so.’
Oliver watched her tongue keenly, which made a delightful tingle dance the length of Pippa’s spine. He looked as though he was considering kissing her.
Oliver all but whispered. ‘I’d like to find out.’
